


A Better Path

by thevillainofthisstory



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, brief mention of non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevillainofthisstory/pseuds/thevillainofthisstory
Summary: Iron Bull and Blackwall do some property damage while defending the Inquisitor’s name. Inquisitor Kasaanda is not pleased.





	A Better Path

**Author's Note:**

> Kasaanda is one of my many Inquisitors. She was raised in Rivain and made her living as a hedgemage aboard raider ships before founding her own mercenary company. Originally posted on my tumblr

           “Care to explain what that was about?” Kasaanda asked mildly. Absently perhaps, if one was foolish enough to believe that her relaxed posture and kind half smile were genuine. The Inquisitor shuffled the papers on her makeshift desk off to the side and folded her hands delicately. Her golden vitaar shimmered in the dim candlelight, making her silver-steel skin iridescent.  _And hard as rock_ , Blackwall remembered, knowing with intimate clarity how the poison turned Kasaanda’s flesh into a living fortress.

           Blackwall stood at attention a few feet in front of the seated Herald. To his right the Iron Bull stood tall and easy. It was a Qunari sized tent, after all. It made the warden feel small. He was unsure how he felt about that, especially with Kasaanda staring at them with such  _polite_  expectation.

           “We just wanted to have a conversation with them, Boss,” Bull began innocently. “Those villagers seemed to be under the impression that you’re a-what did they call her, Blackwall? It’s slipped my mind.”

           “Something along the lines of ‘a horn headed ox-woman freak and a demon fucking mage slut all wrapped into one,’” Blackwall grunted. He understood what Bull was trying to do and it was a valiant effort to try and downplay the riot they started. But his adrenaline was still pumping, making his hands shake and his eyes twitch in his head. Every blasphemous word rang in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to go back into that backwater fuck hole of a village and teach those fools to respect the name of his beloved. He could. He would, if he thought Kasaanda would even consider letting him.

           “Yeah that,” Bull agreed lightly. The Inquisitor raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and tapped her manicured, gold tipped fingernails on the desk top. The Iron Bull shifted his considerable weight from one foot to the other. “Then they asked if we held onto your horns while taking turns fucking you. Which, incidentally, is a lot more difficult to do that it sounds. Tends to kill the mood.”

           “And this was causation enough to warrant knocking down a barn, two woodsheds, and a well? Not to mention the grievous injuries caused to seventeen villagers. Those are reparations that will have to be paid by the Inquisition, amends that we must make because two of my most trusted inner circle couldn’t bear a bit of slander that was, quite frankly, not the most creative I have ever heard,” Kasaanda clipped out. She stood up from her stool, the bangles on her arms and charms hanging from her clothes clinking delicately together. “You should have left it alone. They were harming no one. If you were really concerned you should have come to me. The Inquisition has the resources and reputation to soften even the hardest hearts to our cause. We do not need to resort to thrashing drunken racists. Both of you are trained warriors, men of skill and valor. Rather than using your heads, you shamed those farmers. Now they will have to live with the knowledge that a Warden turned on them with the aid of a giant Qunari. And they will tell the world that we are all that they fear.”

           “So maybe we shouldn’t have knocked down the barn,” Bull grumbled. “But boss, I won’t let anyone talk about you like that. About us like that.”

           “We are who we choose to follow,” Blackwall added gravely. “By slandering you they slandered the Inquisition. They said those things against all of us, and it will not stand.”

           Kasaanda shook her head and sighed. “No,” she maintained, “We must always choose the better path.”

           “How are you not raging against this?” Blackwall demanded. “The first time some fool called Sera ‘knife-ear’ you froze his feet to the ground and left him in the middle of the road. How is this any different?”

           “It’s different because elves are a traditionally subjugated people,” the Inquisitor retorted, “Qunari are feared, misunderstood and the Vashoth almost completely unknown. I expect their revulsion. I welcome it. Their ignorance is a chance for me, for all of us, to show them how to be better than themselves. A horned giant can be beautiful and charming. An elf can be spirited and free. Dwarves are not greedy thugs. We are the brightest of the Age and if we do not share our light then we are no better than those fools whom you thrashed.”

           Silence. Kasaanda stood poised despite the passion of her speech. Not a black hair out of place and as clean and fresh as a spring morning despite the deluge outside and the muddy ground beneath them. He didn’t disagree; Blackwall adored her constant striving for a better world. Despite being a Warden and therefore familiar with fanaticism for a cause, Blackwall was still occasionally blindsided by his own fervor when it came to both the Inquisition and its Inquisitor. This was one of those times.

           “I’m not sorry for teaching those idiots a lesson,” Bull finally broke the silence. “But I do regret any extra work I’ve caused for you, Inquisitor. If we’re rebuilding that shit hole, count me in. I can probably put that well back together. The community doesn’t deserve to suffer just because their menfolk are assholes when they’re drunk.”

           “Thank you, Bull,” the Inquisitor said warmly. “Speak with the requisitions officer, I’ve placed her in charge of repairs.”

           Bull nodded a few times as he turned to leave. “Always nice talking with you, boss,” he called back as he tied the flap of the tent back down after him.

           Kasaanda walked slowly around the desk until she stood right in front of the warden. “Inquisitor, I-”

           “Hush, kadan,” she interrupted softly. A gentle hand stroked along his bearded cheek, occasionally brushing through his whiskers. Blackwall fought back a shiver; with the vitaar still on her face, Kasaanda’s hand felt like a sun warmed stone moving along his skin. “What am I going to do with you?”

           “I humbly beg your forgiveness, my lady, for any inconvenience I may have cause you,” Blackwall said gravely. Reaching up to thread his smaller hand into hers he continued, “But I will not apologize for defending your name.” The grizzled warden placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand then stepped back, letting all contact fall away. He would accept her punishment, whatever it may be, with a grateful heart. How could he not? She was honorable and fair in all things. She had shown him a better path and he would follow her until everything came crashing down.

           Instead of stepping back to mete out her justice, the Herald came in closer. “I’m not going to have you executed, my love. I need you to understand how seriously I intend to take this situation and all the ones that follow,” she said with a smile. “You two meant well and I am grateful to find myself in the company of those who would defend me so ardently.”

           “I am your man, my lady,” Blackwall promised solemnly. “And I will carry your banner for as long as you’ll have me.”

           “Enough of this seriousness,” Kasaanda declared as she took both of his hands in hers. “It has been a long day and defending my honor must have worn you out. You look dead on your feet. Will you take your rest here with me? I want to hold you close and tell you the most wondrous lies about my days as a raider on the Eastern Sea.”

           Blackwall smiled for the first time that evening. “That is an offer I can’t bring myself to refuse,” he chuckled as she pulled him across the tent to begin divesting him of his armor. He did not deserve her kindness let alone her affections, but it was difficult to remember that as her voice and the wind lulled him into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
